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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036789">Bad Kisser</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing'>Prim_the_Amazing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop telling lies about me,” is the first thing Geralt says after they’ve gone up to their inn room. </p><p>“Thank you for singing my praises, Jaskier,” Jaskier says. “Thank you for making people see the light and see me as a hero instead of a feral monster, Jaskier.” </p><p>“You could just sing the truth,” he says, unmoved. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>366</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bad Kisser</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts">afterism</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Stop telling lies about me,” is the first thing Geralt says after they’ve gone up to their inn room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for singing my praises, Jaskier,” Jaskier says. “Thank you for making people see the light and see me as a hero instead of a feral monster, Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could just sing the truth,” he says, unmoved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The truth isn’t glamorous! And anyways, it’s not really lying, is it, just a little bit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>embellishing.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a single word of it was true.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Some</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the words were true. Sure, it may not have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>forty</span>
  </em>
  <span> kikimoras, but you still slayed some of those, didn’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong species.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” A careless wave of his hand. “Monsters are monsters. They’re big and scary and evil, and you put a stop to it. Go the White Wolf! Hero of the land, slayer of beasts, bedder of women--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--handsome-- sorry, what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looks at him. “Not a single word.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he just turns away to tend to his armor. Jaskier stands there for a long moment, trying to parse it. He can’t possibly be putting the pieces together right, in his head. It just doesn’t make sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jaskeir says. “Noooo. You’re messing with me. I know you are!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn,” Geralt says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt. Geralt! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ve bedded women, I’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> you enter whorehouses.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s not in the song, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no. That would be a bit on the nose. Like singing ‘oh, Geralt of Rivia has a massive cock’. Sure, you do, and I do believe that the people should know! But it comes across as a bit insecure to put it forth so blatantly. Like you’re trying to compensate for something. Speaking more obscurely is classier, I’ve learned that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said I was a great kisser.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not </span>
  <em>
    <span>precisely</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I said-- wait. Wait. Geralt, are you saying that you’re… a bad kisser?” The idea seems deeply absurd, somehow. People who look like Geralt aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> at kissing, they get more than enough practice from people veritably throwing themselves at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t… do it,” he repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Geralt says, which Jaskier interpretes as ‘yes.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he asks incredulously, almost aghast. Geralt gives him a flat look, like he’s just being typical dramatic Jaskier, making a big deal over nothing yet again. That just propels his indignant shock to new heights, his voice jumping at least one octave. “Geralt! What do you mean you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fucking whores every time you have the spare coin for it is all well and good, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissing</span>
  </em>
  <span> is where you draw the line? Oh, that is just one step too far? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>when you clutch your pearls? That seems rather backwards to me, Geralt!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whores don’t kiss,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier opens his mouth to say that he knows for a fact that they do in fact kiss, and they do it excellently-- and then he remembers who he’s talking to here. Geralt, the witcher. Geralt, the person he’d had to spend the entire afternoon praising and complimenting in song for all the tavern to hear before he felt that they could ask to rent a room from the owner without being tossed out on their ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all Geralt knows, whores </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> kiss. Jaskier abruptly finds that he would rather eat his fucking lute than break it to him that that’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>general</span>
  </em>
  <span> rule and in fact probably just yet another ‘humans being weird around witchers’ thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” he says. “Well-- fair enough. But you must’ve been with women besides whores.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt has been alive for about two hundred years, Jaskier thinks. In all of that time, he’s found </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> woman who’s wanted to sleep with him without being paid for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>unappreciated</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt is really, really gets to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many times have you kissed someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Right. Of course. Of course! That makes sense, ha, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two hundred fucking years,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’s only been kissed </span>
  <em>
    <span>once.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier looks at him as he unfastens his greaves, and thinks that that should be a fucking crime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kissing’s nice,” he says, and his voice feels a little bit far away from himself, oddly. “It’s-- a bit overlooked, honestly. It’s one of my favorite parts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt snorts. “Wouldn’t think that, considering you can’t talk during it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shut it. Actions can speak louder than words, sometimes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier finds that he can’t stop looking at Geralt’s mouth. It suddenly seems new and fascinating to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once. Kissed only </span>
  <em>
    <span>once. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What a crying shame. A mouth like that, on a man like that? He should be kissed until he loses count. In Jaskier’s humble, unbiased opinion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says, feeling stupid and reckless, and honestly? Jaskier’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at stupid and reckless. He steps closer towards Geralt, who’s sitting at his own bed, until he’s standing over him. Geralt stops what he’s doing, looks up at him. Fuck, he’s so ridiculously handsome. Even now, years later, he keeps being struck by it at random moments. “The song’s already out there in the hearts and minds of the populace, so if you want to make an honest bard out of me, you’d best get a whole lot more experience with kissing fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just looks at him, so Jaskier sets a hand on the edge of his jaw to make things clear. Actions speak louder than words, and all that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyes get very slightly wider, and the cat slits of his eyes go round and dark. His face otherwise doesn’t particularly move, but for Geralt? That was</span>
  <em>
    <span> obvious. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a master in the subject,” he says, and he tries to inject carefree, playful bravado into his voice, he really does, but for some reason it comes out a little tremulous and breathless. Oh, that’s bad. At this rate, Geralt may come to the conclusion that Jaskier’s taking this</span>
  <em>
    <span> seriously,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it isn’t just a little… something not serious, between friends. Just friends. Definitely. “I’d be happy to show you the basics.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s eyes are on Jaskier’s lips now. He shivers underneath the attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not complicated,” Geralt says. “Just put your mouth on the other mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And swordplay is all about just holding the not pointy bit, yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes Geralt scowl at him. It is so deeply familiar that it immediately makes Jaskier smile, the tension sliding right out of him. What is there to be nervous about? It’s just Geralt, and kissing. Two things he is intimately familiar with. Combining the two should be simplicity itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, giving Geralt the opportunity to protest or move away, he leans down and in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt doesn’t move away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really is kind of a bad kisser. Clearly inexperienced. For some reason, that’s endearing. Maybe just because it’s Geralt. Jaskier tries not to laugh into the kiss, which he knows would be taken the wrong way. It’s just that he feels oddly </span>
  <em>
    <span>giddy </span>
  </em>
  <span>for some reason, as his lips move against Geralt’s, gently trying to coax him into kissing him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while, but eventually he does. Still, it isn’t one of the most skilled kisses he’s received. He’s received a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot,</span>
  </em>
  <span> after all, and they’ve only been at this for about a minute now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet somehow, it’s the most breathless and weak kneed he’s ever felt. Funny, that. He braces himself on Geralt to make sure that he won’t topple over, dizzy and light headed and happily floaty. Geralt makes a faint noise into the kiss, and Jaskier</span>
  <em>
    <span> burns. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a long, long while for them to break apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Jaskier pants. “How was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Hn,” Geralt says, but it doesn’t sound unimpressed so much as lost for words, according to Jaskier’s carefully calibrated internal Geralt translator. He beams down at him, feeling prouder than he has over any other achievement that he can think of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” he says with great satisfaction, “you’ve been kissed </span>
  <em>
    <span>twice. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’ll make a legendary kisser of you yet, my friend!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he leans back in to make good on that promise. </span>
</p>
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